Insanity
by TeeEye82
Summary: TFP One-Shot: Starscream, having been beaten and degraded until he was nothing more than a glorified punching bag, decides to attempt to offer what little he can to the Decepticon ranks in order to gain some semblance of respect. Or even a place in memory. But Megatron doesn't know the motive behind his SiC's choice, and tries to find out the usual way.


_**This is a one-shot gift for Starcee138, who requested the beginnings to a form of relationship between Megatron and Starscream. The whole description is pretty long and would give away most of the more interesting parts to this story, if not bore you to death. I'm thinking my version of her scene takes place farther into the Aligned timeline, where Starscream was returned to the Decepticon ranks after his rogue traveling, so his (and probably Megatron's too) overall personality is a little different. I like to call it character development, but if anyone has a different opinion please do not hesitate to tell me.**_

* * *

**Insanity**

Where had it all begun? Why was he going through with this madness again?

Images of disappointed sneers. The phantom of a painful lash across his frame. Belittling words barked out in disgust. Failure. Not good enough. Sorry excuse for a commander. All his faults and slip-ups, brought out into the open. Repeated time and time again.

Was he really that hopeless? Was he really that incompetent? He couldn't possibly be. Not if he was Second to Lord Megatron. _The_ Lord Megatron.

Simple orders given for a simple task, which he didn't meet requirements on in the end. Rash decisions in time of need, only shot down with unbelievably furious remarks of his actions. He tried. He failed. He took the penalty in the end. He was given another assignment, for which he tried, failed, and was penalized once more. A never ending cycle.

Was it worth it? Was it worth the beatings? The threats? Was _he_ worth it?

A fire. So bright and strong, untamable, undousable by the many stones and all the dirt thrown on him. But eventually, those stones and dirt wore away at the fire, smothering slowly, painfully. He coughs now, sputtering small flicks of flame and light, but mostly just a smoldering cinder bed, drowning in his own ashes. Why keep fighting? Why keep burning? It's a lost cause in the end, knowing he will someday be too far buried in the rubble to keep glowing. To keep breathing.

…

The energon supplies diminish slowly, being used slightly faster than they can be restocked. So this was for the better. For the army. One last attempt at making his master proud. Happy. All he wanted was a chance to prove he was not entirely worthless, even if that chance meant offlining.

Some don't know what they have until it's gone. And it was in this hope, a hope he will be remembered with some form of respect, with some form of pride, that he does this.

That is why he was going through this madness.

This insanity.

|:|

It was a gradual change. That much he was sure of. It wasn't instant. It hadn't started last night or last week. When exactly it did though, he wasn't sure. And frankly he didn't care. The question currently plaguing his thoughts was _why_?

No one had noticed the slightly delayed usage of energon until recently, or if they did no comment or note had been made. At first, he figured maybe it was a positive factor. More energon meant more energy to fight with. And more energy to fight with meant a higher chance of victory. And a higher chance of victory was definitely a positive factor.

But he hadn't looked into the cause for the delay until now.

One of his soldiers wasn't consuming their daily rations. No, it was more than that. One of his _officers_, his _commanders_, wasn't consuming their daily rations. More specifically, Starscream.

His first thought had been of a new plot. A freshly brewed backstabbing plan to overthrow his rule once again, but the data didn't line up. Unless the fool was attempting to horde a secret cache somewhere on Earth again. One would think he'd learn his lesson the first time, but this was Starscream. The only time he learned a lesson was if it favored his goals more than everyone elses'.

But he let it continue. He let Starscream continue whatever it was he was up to, hoping he could catch him in the act of insubordination or at least that one of his other followers would. Soundwave kept surveillance up around the SiC's quarters and even tracked him on every mission and or outing.

But nothing showed up.

Eventually, he began noticing little tweaks about the Seeker. A slower walk. More hunched over. Optics dimmer. Voice less grating in the way only a tired mech could speak. But so much more skittish. He would jump, spin around at the smallest of sounds, and sometimes his claws would shake every now and then. It was abruptly apparent what was happening when these small signs began showing up.

Starscream was starving himself.

And that was how come he was wondering why. What was the point? What was the purpose? The gain? He wanted to know what his Second was thinking. What was going on in his processor. What could possibly bring the usually hotheaded and egotistical flier so low?

That's also what brought him outside Starscream's quarters, claws clenching and unclenching in his slowly building anger. He disliked being uncertain about anything. He disliked not knowing potentially valuable information about his ranks. He disliked being left in the dark about something.

Nothing happened aboard his ship without him knowing about it.

The door hissed open, a silver and grey mech leaning against the frame for support as he stared brokenly at the ground. Megatron watched the two orbs of red land on his pedes and slowly travel upwards until optic met optic.

"Greetings, Stascream," he growled out casually, stepping forward and into the room as the Seeker scrambled backwards with a gasp.

"L-Lord Megatron. Aheh. What- how may I be of service?" His wings flexed with a nervous twitch once as he gazed up, hunched over in his usual groveling position. Also known as his way of protecting his frame from a blow.

"I noticed you aren't accepting your energon lately. Care to explain why?" A flicker of alarm, quickly covered up by innocent confusion shifted quickly across the Seeker's features.

His anger rose.

"I haven't the slightest clue of you're talking about, master." Starscream's dermas curled to match the fake innocence, servos raising in another feeble layer of protection from a blow.

And rose.

"Don't play dumb with me," he snapped, leaning in suddenly as he glared harshly. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? That you could hide it from me?" He just wanted answers. That was all. But Starscream's avoidance was making it difficult for him to reign in his fury.

Said mech made a choking gulp as he retreated more, the backs of his knees bumping his berth and causing him to fall flat on his aft with a startled ack. "It- it's not what you think! Honest. You don't- I'm not-"

And rose.

"Not what I think? And what is it that I think? Do you now know how I will see everything you do? Do you now know of all my thoughts? All my plans and operations?" He cut the sputtering idiot off, stepping closer with each question until he was practically on top of the mech who was desperately attempting escape. He leaned closer until he was able to see the glow of his optics on Starscream's faceplates, dentas bared in an irritated snarl.

"N-no! No, please. I didn't mean-"

And rose.

"So what was it you did mean, _Commander_," he spat the last word with venom, pushing forwards more and taking an unconscious delight in how the smaller one was so trapped and so helpless.

He could strike out now, hit something vital, expend his anger. It would be so simple. A single blow. A few more words of his distaste. And then he could leave.

But wait, he was straying from his original reason for coming here in the first place.

"Why are you starving yourself," he broke in before the shivering Seeker could reply to his previous demand. A weak soldier was a dead soldier, and he did not need any more of his troops offlined. No matter how untrustworthy. Every extra gun counted, was needed, if he expected to win this War any time soon.

|:|

Why had Megatron come? Why did his master care? He was only a waste of resources and space. According to everyone around him. So why should the almighty Lord himself waste time with such a trivial matter?

He was unprepared for the sudden visit. Unprepared for the barrage of questions and assumptions and all the sudden stress. He couldn't handle it at the moment. And by the Allspark, he couldn't possibly explain to his tormentor what the whole reason was. It felt wrong. Felt like he was blaming his inabilities on someone else.

Which wouldn't have been a problem if he were his old self. His snarky, strong, useful self. But he had run out of his uses, run out of contributions, run out of time.

But then this and the questions and his lack of space. His claustrophobia. The room was pressing down on him. He was small. So small. The world was so huge and so close and crushing him, closing him into a hole in the ground, burying him under accusations and armor and darkness pierced by red, violent lights.

He was gasping, staring right into those burning pits of rage, what was left of the energon in his veins freezing as he struggled to get away. To freedom. Open air. Space. Stretching out and on and on.

The sudden knock upside the helm, causing him to sprawl on his side in a coughing mess, yanked him roughly out of his bubble of anxiety. He gasped again, rolling to his front and attempting to lunge off the berth so he could get away. Escape.

Another blow, this one on his back, slammed him to the ground just beside his previous perch and he held in a scream as he flailed for some sort of protection.

"Primus, Starscream, _WHY_?" The last word was a roar, an uncharacteristic display of confusion and desperation leaking into Megatron's voice as he leaned in again, though not as close as last time.

"Why do you care?!" He hollered back, immediately flinching and bringing his arms before his face for protection. Though with how big Megatron was it wouldn't help him all that much.

The hulking mech growled and wrapped a claw around his neck, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the wall. Those crimson lights of murderous intentions were close again, right before his own as he gasped and hacked for air. A silly and disgusting human habit he had come to acquire.

|:|

"If I am going to win this War, Starscream, I will need _every_ soldier I have at my disposal running at full operation and ready for a fight when the time arises. But _this_," Megatron punctuated 'this' with a slight tightening of his grip as he held himself back from simply tearing the Seeker's helm off, "is just pathetic. There is _no_ room for weakness in my army, and like _Pit_ if I'm going to allow one of my best soldiers in regards to combat starve himself to offlining!"

The two of them remained that way for a moment, Megatron breathing with a slight growl as he glared and Starscream panting as if for breath as he just watched the different levels of anger swim through the larger mech's optics.

The smaller one opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a choking sob and he trembled. Megatron reeled back in disgust and shock while releasing his hold, watching as Starscream collapsed to the floor and curled up in a shuddering ball of silent tears.

The air suddenly felt strange. An uneasy lingering that tightened Megatron's chassis as he gazed down at the sniveling pile of scrap. At first, he was confused as to why he would feel awkward, in any sense of the word, in a situation like this.

And then he realized he'd never seen Starscream cry before.

No matter what had been thrown at him, what he had been put through, what anyone said or did that hurt him physically or psychologically, Starscream had remained strong. Steadfast. He hadn't wilted under the oppressive glares, hadn't broken under the crushing blows, hadn't given up. It was a trait the war lord had unconsciously approved of, if not admired. Now that he thought about it, Starscream had probably been one of his strongest warriors. In skill, soul, and cunning.

And now this. To see the once arrogant mech, who had an air about him that seemed to scream, 'I'm better than you,' beaten and battered to this point of misery was something new to Megatron. Something he didn't like because it made him feel like it was his fault.

Which it probably was.

Crouching down slowly, cautiously, the ex-gladiator leaned over the shivering Seeker and raised a servo. It hovered just above the closest dark grey-blue shoulder plating before gently resting there, as if the weight would cause Starscream to crumble and shatter. Damage him more than he already was.

The metal stiffened and shrank away, obviously having expected violence, and a weak pang of guilt stabbed Megatron in the spark. This was quickly replaced by disgust with himself, and then that was replaced by thinly veiled concern as Starscream began to uncurl from his closely packed ball of wings and armor.

He looked up at Megatron, and if looks could kill-

With a shriek, four dulled down but still sharp talons caught Megatron right across the face, causing only enough damage and pain that he reeled back with a startled yell, but nothing more. In that instant that he had moved away, the small silver one had fled, rushing from the room faster than a starved mech should have been able to. Megatron growled and wiped the leaking blue liquid from under his optics, glaring out the door to the quarters.

And for the first time in a long time, he was honest to the Well worried. He had to get Starscream back to fully functional. It was a must, part of his top priorities. And the operation would start now.

With a hiss as he stood back up, wiping his faceplates again, he left the room and made his way to the Bridge, already forming a plan. Starscream would pull through this. Even if he had to force feed the stubborn slagger himself and then lock him in his quarters until complete recovery.


End file.
